


The leopard and the princess

by miniCrisGM



Series: ACOTAR x ToG: The Ultimate Crossover [3]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Mor and Lysandra investigate a mysterious cave, you won't believe what happened afterwards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 07:41:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miniCrisGM/pseuds/miniCrisGM
Summary: Mor finally visits Terrasen and Lysandra takes her to her estate in Carravere, glad to finally have some time to be alone together.





	The leopard and the princess

“So what’s _that_ supposed to be?”

Morrigan angled her head, staring at the painting. The strokes had a very clear definition and confidence to them, one could clearly feel the mastermind of Feyre behind them, but the execution was… well, abstract, to say something. Lysandra hesitated for a bit.

“A snow leopard. You know, since it’s my house’s sigil and my favourite shifting form. It was a present for when I finally moved into Carravere.”

Mor angled her head the _other_ way and hummed.

“I see Feyre has her work cut out for her”.

Lysandra laughed as she gently punched Mor in the shoulder. The blond Fae also laughed and embraced the shapeshifter, crossing her arms across Lysandra’s chest. They stared at the painting, which could have been a snow leopard if one fervently wanted to believe it was, and burst out laughing again.

“Don’t ever tell your queen I said that or I’m dead meat”, Mor chuckled and kissed Lysandra.

~~~~~~~~

Mor had arrived in Terrasen a week ago, officially as ambassador of the Night Court, unofficially on some well-deserved holidays. It was really at Lysandra’s behest that she had been invited to Aelin’s court, but the queen hadn’t needed too much convincing – she already liked Morrigan, for she had seen how Lysandra’s face lighted up every time they were together, and any excuse to strengthen ties with Prythian was a good one.

She didn’t know what exactly had happened that Starfall night a couple of years ago, but Lysandra had changed so much for the better – she had come alive, light dancing in her eyes. Aelin knew that feeling, knew what it was like to be broken and empty and to find somebody that helped put the pieces back together. She couldn’t be happier for her friend.

Mor was extremely nervous as she disembarked in Terrasen and was welcomed by part of the queen’s retinue, leaded by Lysandra and Aedion. She knew very well how to navigate court, but having grown up in the Court of Nightmares, she was quite weary of what she was about to find at Orynth. She glanced at Lysandra, who was chatting heartily with one of the soldiers, and thought that she only wanted a few days’ break with Lysandra, to have her to herself and forget about the outside world. Damned Rhys and Feyre always monopolizing the cabin in the mountains. _Some of us also want to go on dates, you horny beasts_.

Her worries were completely unfounded, however: Aelin and Rowan welcomed her as if she were part of the family, having prepared for her a banquet worthy of a queen. They discussed politics, history, culture and love while shoving into their mouths spoonfuls of bean soup, mint lamb and braised sea bass. The spices came from Antica, in the southern continent, Lysandra explained, to which she had never been but would love to visit sometime. To fly on a ruk! Oh, wouldn’t that be something!

Well, that was their next holiday settled, Mor thought.

After the dessert was over, a translucent gooey pudding which apparently was a Wendlyn specialty and which once you actually put it in your mouth without looking at it too much so as to not have second thoughts was quite tasty, they traded the regal banquet hall for a smaller, much cosier parlour, where the palace servants had served tea with an assortment of very petite and tacky tarts. Mor was quietly glad that Cassian had not accompanied them, as she was certain beyond doubt that he would have made a point of trying to fit as many in his mouth as possible in the shortest amount of time.

“It’s a shame you’re not staying longer in the city”, Aelin complained. “It’s always so nice to have our Prythian friends over!”

Mor was about to answer with a delicate, politically correct apology but Lysandra was quicker than her.

“As you might recall, my dear Aelin, Morrigan is here to see _me_, not you, and as such I plan to take up as much of her time here as I can”, and drank her tea without breaking eye contact with the queen for a time that Mor felt utterly eternal.

Aelin broke into a fit of laughter.

“And where are you planning to take her to run from me, huh?”

Lysandra smiled.

“Isn’t it obvious? To Carravere”.

~~~~~~~~

Evangeline had been playing outside all morning, making snowmen and snow leopards (with as much skill as Aelin in her paintings) and was now exhausted. Mor took her upstairs with loving care and tucked her in bed for a brief nap. She stayed for a bit before heading back down with Lysandra, brushing the stray locks of hair that fell over the child’s face. Evangeline made as if to sneeze, one of them tickling her nose, and Mor pushed it back with a chuckle. The scars on Evangeline’s cheeks reminded her of her own ruined belly – no, not ruined, _marred_ if anything, but never ruined. Neither of them was ruined by those experiences, nor would they let anyone measure their worth through their bodies. Herself and Evangeline would be the only judges of that.

Lysandra was in the massive living room around which the rest of the mansion’s rooms were distributed. The chimney was on and the shifter was chatting lively to a rather aged gentleman, who Mor didn’t know but who held himself with so much poise and dignity she knew at once he must be a member of the nobility. Lysandra noticed Mor as she entered and got up, and so did the man.

“Morrigan”, she said, and Mor could detect a tinge of tension in her voice; she was obviously not entirely comfortable with her guest. “Let me introduce you to Weyland Darrow, lord of Arran. He is also Evangeline’s guardian”.

Oh yes, Mor thought, she did know the man. He had apparently kicked Aelin Galathynius out of Terrasen when she had returned home for the first time in ten years and barred her court from entering Orynth. _And_ refused to give Carravere to Lysandra for her being a “mere courtesan”. Neat.

Lord Darrow bowed at her and she reciprocated, her courtly education taking over, but she made a point of staring at him with the Fae eyes that had made her famous during the War. She was pleased when she saw Darrow quiver uncomfortably.

Lysandra could see the wheels turning in her lover’s mind, so she quickly tried to dispel the tension.

“Lord Darrow has very kindly come to take care of Evangeline while we are out, Mor”.

“Has he now?”

Lord Darrow cleared his throat, but no matter how much he tried to assert his authority, he still looked like a summer child in front of a five hundred-year-old warrior.

“I haven’t seen Evangeline in a while, and it just so happens that my duties in Orynth have allowed me a break, so it all comes in good time”.

“Well, I am _sure_ we are leaving Evangeline in your _very_ capable hands”.

Before she could verbally shred him into very little pieces, Lysandra grabbed Mor’s arm and dashed for the door.

“Thank you so much, Lord Darrow! We’ll be back tomorrow!”, she shouted before closing the door after them.

The snow had kept falling and it now nearly covered them up to their knees. Mor buttoned up her coat, which Lysandra had miraculously managed to grab before ushering her out of the mansion, and waited for the shifter to get a horse for her.

“I don’t like him”, she muttered.

“You don’t say”, Lysandra arched her eyebrows.

“He just… he reminds me of all the assholes of the Court of Nightmares. You know, the “we have to uphold tradition” and “I’d rather cut off my hand than be touched by a peasant” and that sort of people. I can’t stomach them”.

“Well, he _was_ like that at the beginning, but after we won the war and Aelin came onto the throne he has been nothing but polite to us. And he really loves Evangeline”.

Mor shot her a sceptical look as she jumped onto the horse.

“You didn’t look comfortable with him”.

“I’m not comfortable with _any_ nobleman. I’ve known too many of them and none in a good way. I’d much rather have _you_”.

She blew a kiss to a startled and blushing Mor and before she could say anything in response, Lysandra shifted into a snow leopard, her powerful paws easily staying on top of the snow, and shot forward after indicating to Mor that she was to follow her.

They rode for slightly longer than half an hour, and the landscape around them reminded Mor of her own estate in Athelwood, of the place she had only for herself when she needed to be alone with her thoughts. But now… maybe now she didn’t need to be alone after all, she thought glancing at the snow leopard leading the way.

Lysandra only stopped once they reached a stone wall that rose vertically in front of them: the beginning of the Staghorn mountains. It was certainly impressive; the stone went up higher than the naked eye could see, creating an unclimbable surface. Mor wagered that it would only take a small bet to get Cassian, Azriel and Rhys competing to see which of them could be the first one to make it to the top – or the last one to end up with their asses crashing on the forest floor.

The courtesan shifted again into her human form, and Mor had to use every ounce of self-control to look away from her sun-kissed skin as she hurriedly dressed in the winter clothes she had packed into the horse’s saddle.

“Come, it’s this way!”

“Lysandra, that’s a _wall_”.

Until it wasn’t.

Lysandra vanished.

“Lys? _Lysandra??_”

Mor began to panic until the head of the shifter popped out from apparently _nowhere_.

“Come on, you lazy bum, follow me!”

Mor gaped like a fish out of the water until she realized that there was an opening in the rock, so subtle that it would be nearly impossible to see if one didn’t know it was there. Those freaking mountains were playing mind games with her and she didn’t like it one bit. It wouldn’t be the first time going inside a mountain hadn’t played out well for her.

But this time was different, she told herself.

She was with Lysandra.

The shifter was waiting for her inside a natural cavern at the end of the tunnel that led from the crag in the mountain face. Stalactites and stalagmites gleamed with water accumulated from eons past, giving the whole place an eerie vibe.

“Very… Fae”, Mor muttered, trying to sound as positive as possible about it.

“I found this a few months after moving to Carravere”, Lysandra started to explain, moving further down along a second tunnel that left from the opposite end of the cavern. “It’s all carved into the stone, it’s amazing. I think it was probably made by the Fae that lived in Terrasen before Adarlan wiped them all out, but it seems it hasn’t been used in a very long time. Reminds me a bit of your Hewn City, right?”

Mor didn’t find the words to answer.

She was too busy gawking in awe of what lay before her eyes.

A manor, carved into the belly of the Staghorn mountains, filled to the brim with jewels and precious stones.

“This is _nothing _like the Hewn City”.

They were in the entrance hall, a massive staircase meandering in front of them leading to upper floors, no doubt also filled with wonders and sparkles. Mor could see door, many of them, and passageways, and richly decorated furniture and paintings and _carvings _on the wall, carvings she had only seen in books from the library in Velaris.

And stones.

Precious stones glittered encased all along the walls; heaps of them, already extracted and polished, lay on the tables and chairs, some of them remade into jewelry, some of them still raw and wild.

It was surreal. Mor didn’t know what to make of it.

Next to her, Lysandra chuckled.

“To be honest, I made that exact same face the first time I was here”.

Mor turned to her, grasping for words.

“What is this? How… what… why??”

Lysandra shrugged.

“Dunno. I haven’t touched anything out of respect for the original owners… It would feel almost like heresy, as if I was profaning a sacred space…”

“Who _were_ the original owners?”

“Probably ancient Terrasen Fae, but I haven’t been able to find anything on them, despite all the research I’ve done. With the library of Orynth being burned down and all, you know…”

Mor couldn’t help herself and opened every single one of the doors that lay before her, and after that she ran upstairs, mortally curious to bask in the glory that this relic of bygone times had to offer. Lysandra followed, and they spent the next few hours investigating the carved mansion, hand in hand, giggling and gaping and having the time of their lives.

The evening caught them in the enormous living room that one of the first doors downstairs gave entrance to. Mor had been analyzing the signs carved in the walls and after trying her magic on them he managed to make some of them react, lighting their way along the house. She had also found a secret passageway behind a bookcase, leading down into a dark subterranean maze, but having read more than a few mystery novels and finding it slightly too predictable, Mor and Lysandra decided to retrace their steps and return to where they started.

They fell down onto the carpet that covered the room in front of the stately fireplace, kissing as if the world was theirs. Mor tasted Lysandra’s lips, curved into a smile, and tucked one of her auburn locks behind her ear. The shifter gave her another kiss, shyly, and shivered slightly.

Mor frowned.

“I’m a little cold”, Lysandra admitted. “This whole place is carved out of stone _and _it’s winter, you know”.

Looking around, Mor spotted a bundle of blankets, soft and furry, and threw them and herself over the shifter.

“Awfully nice of our unwitting hosts to leave this very conveniently lying around here. Imagine if there was a fire to accompany it”, she joked, and then the fireplace spontaneously lighted itself. Both women stared at it for a moment, blinking in disbelief.

“AND I WANT A THOUSAND GOLD PIECES”, Lysandra yelled, making Mor break out laughing.

They lay down together, crying tears of laughter until their bellies ached, and turned on their side to look at each other.

“The golden pieces are taking their sweet long time”, Mor muttered.

“Bah. I’ve got the only treasure I need right next to me”, Lysandra answered with a wide smile that made Mor’s heart skip a beat.

“Give me a second to go vomit some rainbows. Couldn’t you find anything cheesier to say?”

Lysandra couldn’t stop smiling; Mor’s blush was obvious even with the titillating light of the chimney. She took the female’s face in her hands and kissed her, softly at first, but soon her self-control started to falter and their contact turned hungry, hands roaming over their clothes, looking for any openings, and Lysandra pushed herself upwards until she sat astride Mor.

She had been in this position many times, but not like this. Not like _this_. She realized that she had never been made love to, not until she met Mor. With her she felt different, she felt… free. Powerful.

Happy.

She leaned in to kiss the female and Mor lifted her head to catch her lips.

The blankets covered them as their clothes came undone and fell to the floor, but they did not feel the cold. Shadows from the fireplace danced on their naked skin and Mor could feel her heart beating so fast it might jump out of her chest. She was in love with the most wonderful, brave, intelligent and beautiful woman she had ever met… and she was loved back. She could cry of how proud that made her.

“I love you”, she whispered to the shifter.

Lysandra smiled and kissed her.

“I love you too”.

~~~~~~~~

Hours later, after two… and three… and four and five tumbles, the fire still crackled in the chimney. Mor lay face down on top of Lysandra, resting her head between the shifter’s breasts, while she lazily caressed her hair.

They were both slick with sweat, not that they minded at all. Lysandra intended to spend the rest of the night naked and Mor had no objections at all. This was their kingdom, carved into the stone, and tonight it was just theirs.

Just theirs.

“Penny for your thoughts”.

Mor looked up into Lysandra’s piercing green eyes and grinned.

“I feel terribly insulted that you think my thoughts are worth just one penny”. Lysandra chuckled. “Especially with the treasure trove you have here”.

“At how much would you value them, then?”, she replied, pretending to pout.

Morrigan smiled.

“How about a ring?”

Out of her discarded pile of clothes, she pulled out a silver ring with a mounted diamond, a fragment of a fallen star twinkling in Mor’s hand. Lysandra went very still, alternating her eyes between the ring and Mor, until she understood.

And then she wept with joy.

Mor kissed her once more.

“Will you marry me?”

**Author's Note:**

> I just love this pairing so much *sobs* and they love each other so much too!   
I hope you like this third story in the series, please comment, it gives me life to hear what you guys think!! And if you have any ideas/suggestions that you would like to read, I'll be happy to hear them! :)  
Thank you!


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